


Drabble Prompts

by MianMimi



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drabbles, Soulmates, prompt fills
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2018-09-22 09:15:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9600392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MianMimi/pseuds/MianMimi
Summary: To break up writer's block, I asked for folks to send me strordo prompts that I can turn into drabbles. Here they are in a semi organized fashion.





	1. Last Words

So this wasn't exactly a prompt but an anon mentioned the following and lo and behold this came about... This can serve as a prequel drabble to "As You Were Sleeping" 

Anon asked: TAO' last conversation with Stephen is so so beautiful, tbh. Seeing it through strordo shipper goggles tho, makes it even more so cause the relationship between TAO and Mordo is full of love but secrets and omg pain. In the end, she's pretty much saying to Stephen "take care of Mordo"??? because he loves you???? and he's going to listen to you when the time comes???? TAO's soul cannot ascend to a higher place of existence if they don't make out. She's the captain of the strordo ship, tbh.  
__________________________________________________

 

She knew of this moment lifetimes ago. But no vision could prepare her for the final reminder that she was only human, and like those Sorcerer Supremes before her, even she was subject to death.

 

They say that one’s life flashes before their eyes before it’s all silenced by dreadful darkness. She didn’t fear it. She endured things worse than death. Right now she only feared for those she left behind. 

 

She wasn’t one to choose favorites. Attachments lead to pain, as she learned many times over her long life. Her students were like children to her, some more so than others. It hurt when they suffered. It hurt when they died. And it hurt even more when they willing left her. She wanted relief from that cycle, wished for it many times during the long years alone. But as Sorceress Supreme she could not die. Not until her successor was found. So she waited. For countless years and liftetimes she waited.

 

When a young, disgraced Baron appeared at the door she knew her last years were upon her. She felt it in her heart, the presence of fate whispering that this stranger would be the next to hold the title. And her palms ached as her lifelines faded, growing fainter the longer she trained Mordo, a countdown to the end of her service and the start of his.

 

It was curious then, that fate would have her share her final moments with someone else.

 

“Mordo’s soul is rigid and unmovable, forged by the fires of his youth.” 

 

The man beside her had no idea of the trials to come. He had no way of knowing that his destiny was already etched on the palm of his hand. He had no way to see, as she did, of the red string connecting him to her successor.

 

“He needs your flexibility as you need his strength. Only together do you have a chance of stopping Dormammu.”

 

“I’m not ready.” His fear was palpable. She understood. Uncertainty was terrifying. 

 

“No one ever is. We don’t get to choose our time.”

 

Her eyes kept their gaze at the stormy sky before them. She moved her hand to gently touch his, resting her fingers against his palm. Such broken hands. Yet they would be the ones to save her successor from following a darker path. These were the hands that would be Mordo’s salvation. 

 

She smiled knowing that for all her shortcomings she at least could leave Mordo with this…

 

She could feel the energy of Stephen’s lifeline, how the beat of Mordo’s own heart could be felt through their connection. And neither knew of it yet. 

 

She only wished she could be there when they realized it, to see her successor and his soulmate happy and ready to face whatever fate befalls. 

 

“Death is what gives life meaning. To know that your days are numbered. You’d think after all this time I would be ready.”

 

She caught her breath as she felt her lifeline take the last pulse. 

 

“But look at me, stretching one moment out to a thousand. Just so I can watch the snow.”


	2. Boots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For your drabble prompts (hopefully the writer's block goes away! ): The Boots of Valtorr seem to create temporary steps only, so my prompt is Mordo's falling and Stephen swoops in and bridal carries him in the air. Because that should've happened at least once, movie

I hope you don’t mind if I made the boots sentient. The thought of matchmaking relics made me smile almost as hard as Mordo did at Stephen’s bad jokes.

____________________________

As agreed, the boots held back their magic and allowed their beloved master to plummet a hundred feet to the cold, hard, ground. Relics are fickle, sensitive things. Some were stubbornly loyal, others were easily irked and temperamental, and some were content with allowing their masters to use them as they saw fit. 

The Boots of Valtorr were at a different level than most relics however. They were loyal yes, obedient of course, and faithful in their service. That’s why they had to do it. They had to let their dearest master fall. 

They adored him. Even as he screamed and kicked them against the other to try and coax them to stall his impact with the concrete. He was more than a wonderful master. He was also a very attentive caretaker, maintaining them and ensuring that they were in the best possible condition.

They had to show their appreciation somehow. And this. This was the perfect start. With grave danger and probable death. No one could turn away from that. 

“Mordo!”

The boots nearly clicked their heels together in delight. They loved it when things went according to plan.

On cue the Cloak of Levitation dove to catch the falling sorcerer. The humans of course were screaming and fumbling to get a hold of each other mid-fall. Silly masters, of course they weren’t actually going to let them die. What kind of relics would they be? 

The doctor was trying his best to hold their master up with those shaking hands. Always the helpful duo, the boots ever so slightly assisted to ease the burden. 

They hoisted their master’s legs to where the doctor could put one arm underneath the knees and the other arm on Mordo’s back. Out of sheer instinct Mordo’s arms wrapped around the doctor’s neck for more security. Their master was utterly embarrassed, positively mortified at his loss of dignity as he was carried by his student like some bride. It was everything the twin boots hoped for.

“What the hell happened?” The doctor said once the Cloak drifted them all safely to the ground. Their master immediately jumped off of the other sorcerer. The boots gave a soft pull of protest that their master promptly ignored.

“I could ask the same thing!” Their master’s voice was tense, grumbling at them. They knew when they were being scolded. Master Mordo was very in tune with his relics, well enough even to know the difference between accident and intent. And likewise they knew every last bit of him.

They knew how different their master sounded when that odd man was around. He would smile and laugh at the least humorous thing the doctor said. They knew how their master’s steps would quicken whenever the man was nearby, always wandering to get closer to him. They knew their master’s steps were more lively now, his movements more animated and spontaneous rather than his usual regimented style. And they absolutely loved the change. 

They stepped forward impatiently, causing their surprised master to stumble right into the doctor.

The Cloak kept still, acting like a wall for his own master to lean against while a furiously embarrassed Mordo tried to step back. The boots relented, allowing a foot of space between the two men. The Cloak pushed his master forward with an encouraging nudge.

The boots inched closer to Stephen. The doctor laughed.

“I think our relics want to switch masters. Your boots keep trying to get to me.”

If relics had voices they would have sent out a communal groan.

***********

Later that night when their master was asleep, the boots quietly trotted to where the Cloak was. The Cloak was pacing back and forth at his master’s door like a sentinel. Its collar flared when it sensed its friends approaching and rushed to meet them.

Thankfully no sorcerers were around to see the bizarre sight nor hear their excited energies. A very skilled sorcerer would have heard them conspiring their next attempt to bring their blind masters together. The fall was a very good start. Now onto more daring plights, being stranded in a romantic location without their sling rings perhaps? Yes. That would do. That would certainly do.


	3. Cuddle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A combination of two prompts: First, Mordo and Stephen cuddle in bed. Second, Mordo tries to teach Stephen his native language.

Combined two prompts cause they were just perfect to pair together. :_) Multilingual Mordo has to be canon right? These two are also overdue for fluff to the point of being ooc.

 

_ Italics means they’re pronouncing the words correctly aka, they sound sexy 8D _

 

_______________________________________

 

They mutually agreed that Mordo had to leave before morning. 

 

It wouldn’t be a good example for the students to see one of their most respected teachers sneaking out of Stephen’s room. After all, instructors had to be early for their classes and Mordo taught the first morning lesson. Masters had to set a standard of self-discipline for the novices to aspire towards, and sleeping in with one’s lover was certainly no excuse to be tardy. Besides, the gossip in Kamar-Taj was feverish. Even a few accidental glances could ignite imaginations to create the most scandalous things. It would be wise to avoid all that. 

 

Truthfully it would have been wise to avoid sleeping together at all. But then again their judgements have been sorely compromised as of late. 

 

The soft rain pattered against the windows. The night was peaceful, blissfully quiet and intimate.  Even in the dim light Stephen’s skin was flushed, his face still reddened from their previous love making. His shoulders and neck, usually porcelain pale, were littered with telling bites and bruises. Mordo kissed them gently.

 

When they started their nightly affairs Stephen wasn’t expecting it to feel like this. He expected sex with Mordo to be amazing, and in that regard he was far from disappointed. What he didn’t expect was everything else that surrounded it. The wooing, the invitation, the way they would simply lay entangled together in the aftermath, the way Stephen didn’t want him to leave, the way Mordo would find ways to stay. He enjoyed every bit of it. With others there was always some misstep. With Mordo each step was divine. Especially the slow, easy moments like this. 

 

“I sound like an idiot,” Stephen laughed. They were laying together, Mordo’s arms wrapped around Stephen from behind. The baron’s face was buried on the crook between the doctor’s neck and shoulder.

 

Stephen sighed contently as he felt his lover’s breath against his skin. He loved how Mordo left traces of himself on him, and just in the physical, carnal sense. It felt like Mordo’s energy was imprinted on his skin, filling the space between them with a delicious aura.

 

“Don’t be foolish. You’re getting better. Try it again.” Mordo whispered softly against Stephen’s ear.

 

“Ich liebe dich.” Stephen said hesitantly, still unsure of his pronounciation. 

 

“ _ Ich liebe dich _ .” Mordo said patiently, “Try it again. Emphasize it more.”

 

_ “ _ Ich liebe dich.”

 

“A little louder.”

 

“Ich liebe dich.”

 

“You were very close that time.”

 

“ _ Ich. Liebe. Dich.” _

 

“Now I just think you’re messing it up on purpose,” Mordo smiled against his cheek. 

 

“Well I think you just want me to keep saying it,” Stephen’s deep voice rumbled with a gentle giggle.

 

He turned to face Mordo only to be met with a full kiss on the lips. The baron’s dark hands brushed the hair from Stephen’s face as they parted. 

 

_ “Du hast wunderschöne Augen.” _

 

“Something about my eyes?” Stephen asked. 

 

“Only to say that they’re beautiful,” Mordo caressed his lover’s back, enjoying the sweet moans the simple touch elicited, “Like everything else about you.”

 

“Küss mich.” Stephen said, leaning in closer, eyeing his teacher’s mouth, “Did I say that right?”

 

Mordo replied by kissing him deeply. Stephen knew that Mordo was an incredibly skilled linguist. It was a talent that he didn’t normally show off unless needed. The man’s modesty was something to be admired. Right now however, with Stephen in his arms, Mordo was gladly pouring out every version of the same phrase in whatever language came to mind.

 

_ “Je t’aime.” _

 

The French words felt smooth and warm, rolling off Mordo’s lips as sweetly as his kisses.

 

_ “Te iubesc.” _

 

The baron whispered the Romanian phrase with a gentle candor. Stephen laughed and repeated the words himself only to be rewarded with a quick bite on his neck for the poor attempt.

 

_ “Te amo Stephen. Szeretlek. Ich liebe dich.”  _ Mordo kissed him relentlessly, as if there weren’t enough places to lay his lips or enough words to convey all he felt.

 

“Now you’re just clearly showing off. That was what...four languages? You gotta slow down and repeat all that.” Stephen pulled back from Mordo’s kisses long enough to catch his breath, “One language at a time.”

 

They held each other for a few moments of tranquil silence, simply taking in the sight of the other in their arms. Mordo dipped down to kiss him again.

 

_ “Du bist die Liebe meines Lebens. _ You are the love of my life. _ ”  _

 

Stephen melted beneath those words.

 

“ _ Egy nyelv sosem elég.  _ One language is never enough. _ ” _

 

_____________________________

 

I hope I got those translations right.  *cries in native tongue* 

  
  



	4. First Impressions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Mordo’s thoughts the first time he sees Stephen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I thought I was done with this one but then that deleted scene with the dog happened and now we have this. Forgive my delay. This prompt went beyond a drabble and was heavily influenced by the asks/metas from anons over on tumblr. Who knew a dog and a watch would mean so much? ;__; Written at crazy hours of the night. Forgive the typos.

Wong warned him there was danger in predictability. Mordo took the advice half-heartedly, which is to say that he politely thanked his friend then promptly continued his dangerous routine of walking alone through the busy city of Kathmandu. 

The world was exceptionally lively and loud that day, and contrary to what most people assumed, Mordo enjoyed being lost in it. Most masters found peace in the still, solitary confines of the sanctums and meditation gardens. He found it in the bustling streets that overflowed with people, wares, animals, and all the glorious clamor that came with it. He’d spent enough years imprisoned at his grandfather’s estate, kept under careful watch by his domineering family. 

The loneliness had been deafening. He had no desire to inflict that level of isolation on himself again, not when there was freedom to be had just by walking amongst other people. He needed to protect the world and keep it in order, but every now and again he allowed himself to simply enjoy being part of it. Even if it was just to stroll through a chaotic town.

But like nearly everything he did, even pleasure had a purpose. Ever since a faction of sorcerers broke off from their order and became zealots Mordo’s daily strolls became more urgent. There was no compromising with him, despite everyone’s attempts to get him to stay within the supposedly secure boundaries of Kamar-Taj. In one night the former librarian was killed in one of the safest places in their compound, a dangerous ritual had been stolen, and the assailants were still unaccounted for. Clearly they weren’t safe. 

And for Mordo that was completely unacceptable. 

The zealots were crazed and corrupt but they weren’t incompetent or stupid. Mordo taught a few of them himself and understood what they were capable of. Even now they could be lurking in the city, planning their next assault, calculating their latest attack. Perhaps they were even recruiting more sorcerers to their cause. Or using spies to enter Kamar-Taj. Or breaking down the protective barriers that concealed his home. 

So he established a rigid routine. Teach the novices in the morning. Patrol the barriers of Kamar-Taj during his alleged spare time. Return in the afternoon to teach the more advanced combat classes. Then spend the night wondering about the choices that lead him into this life.  
At the moment his routine remained on schedule. He spent his free time that day walking around Kathmandu making sure the magical barriers were still active and untampered with. He was ever mindful of the people he crossed paths with, his hearing finely tuned to any suspicious conversation.

And that’s why he heard him before he saw him. 

“Kamar-Taj?”

The voice was low and laced with defeat, as if he already knew the answer. An exhausted sigh, then a stubborn turn, and the man was stepping away. 

“Kamar-Taj...”

Mordo turned to catch a quick glimpse of his back. He wasn’t hard to spot. He literally stood out from the crowd. Tall, unkempt, and obviously American from his accent and in the confidently lost way he carried himself. It was more than enough to draw out Mordo’s suspicions. Spies and murderers entered Kamar-Taj with less threatening facades before. 

So he followed him. If this man proved to be a problem then he would be dealt with swiftly. If not then Mordo would leave him to his blissful confusion. The sorcerer lingered a bit behind to prevent the other man from noticing him. Not that it required much. The American was absolutely oblivious. 

The lack of insight and survival instinct disturbed Mordo. With each step he grew more convinced that this stranger wasn’t a threat. He had the demeanor of a tired child, and the physicality of a man who had endured too much. Yet he was also out of tune with the world around him, seemingly absorbed in his own path to find a place he would never find without permission.

The sorcerer decided he’d seen enough and was about to turn away when he noticed that the man’s footsteps ceased. For a moment he thought he’d been caught, but the uncertainty of that was brief. He continued, curious to see what could have caused the non-stop American to...well, stop. 

The man was kneeling close to the ground before a wounded dog. They were both in terrible shape, scraggly, ragged, and apparently injured if the bandages on the man’s pale hands were anything to go by. For the first time Mordo noticed the man’s hands were shaking. The man unwrapped one of his own bandages and used it to tend to the whimpering animal. The humble act appeared to be a slow, painful process. Yet the man persisted. After a while the dog’s paw was secured. 

“There you go,” The American spoke to the creature with a measure of kindness Mordo didn’t expect. The grateful dog flicked its tongue out and tapped its freshly bandaged paw on the healer’s hand.

“Oh yeah, shaking my hand now? Wait til you get the bill.” 

With a faint chuckle the American indulged the dog one last time by pretending to shake hands. 

“How’s your insurance huh?”

Mordo couldn’t recall the last thing that made him smile. It was difficult for him to do lately, there was little amusement to be had given their current circumstances. And yet for this man he never spoke to, and who didn’t even realize he was even there, he smiled. It was a small smile, quick and unseen but a real one nonetheless.

The dog trotted off after a final lick, leaving the man with shaking hands to himself. The American’s gait was unsteady, and his shoulders were heavy from fatigue. Mordo regarded his options carefully. 

The presence of three men hastened his decision. One of them approached the foreigner from the back, two from the front. They had a weapon with them.

“I don’t have any money.”

There were worse things to take than money, and more harm than thef to inflict a man so blatantly weakened and outnumbered

“Your watch.” The thieves enclosed casually around him, their steps easy and rehearsed like a familiar dance.

“No please, it’s all I have left,” 

This man had much to learn if he was to survive. There was no use in bargaining with desperate thieves, here or anywhere else. The former librarian’s death by the zealots was testament to that.

“Your watch.” 

The American replied with a well-meaning punch that did nothing to help him. He hissed from the pain, grasping his trembling, cramped hand. He was rewarded for his defiance by being promptly kicked to the ground in every direction. They were relentless, stomping on him with their full weight, throwing him back down before he got a chance to even defend himself. With a hard tug one of them snatched the watch right off his arm.  
The men lost before Mordo even began.

The one with the watch was the first to hit the ground. His companions followed in rapid succession. Three easy, violent strikes took them down, each move carefully measured and non-lethal. 

He might have broken a rib or two, judging by the miserable trio writhing at his feet. He stomped on one for an extra level of satisfaction. Though he tried to suppress it his grandfather’s more ruthless combat training crept back every now and then. This time he felt no guilt. 

The least injured of the thieves ran, leaving the other two at Mordo’s mercy. Fortunately for them he settled with retrieving the watch. He swiped the watch from the thief, quickly noting that it was now broken beyond repair. There was an inscription on the back, sweet, sentimental, and clearly teeming with history. 

...Only time will tell how much I love you...

Mordo handed the momento to the stranger’s shaking hands. They were trembling horribly, from injury or shock, or both, Mordo couldn’t decide. 

If a moment could stretch to a thousand, it happened then. 

The sorcerer looked up to finally see the foreigner face to face. The taller man was haggard, rough, far from what you’d immediately call attractive given his pathetic state. His sunken skin and skeletal cheekbones were testaments to starvation. He looked weathered and worn, like a battered statue dressed in clothes. 

There was much to see and read in that one glimpse. Yet it was the eyes that caught the sorcerer’s breath. They were blue, fiercely bright, sharp with both relief and fear. Hunger swam beneath their gaze. The glistening sheen of tears that refused to fall cast a strange, soft brilliance in the light. 

And for the first time in Mordo’s life, the world shifted without a spell. 

He decided he didn’t like it. The feeling wasn’t pleasant or enjoyable, this unwelcome lightness that seemed to lift him off the ground. Yet it was there, refusing to be ignored. The man held him with a simple gaze, one in which Mordo found himself willing trapped. 

“You’re looking for Kamar-Taj.” 

The strangers stared at each other in brief silence, both blissfully unaware how those words would doom them both forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to revamp this after that deleted scene came out with the dog. Just. Why Marvel? Why?*rambles til the morning sun* 
> 
> The next prompt (also the last one from the batch I originally had) is about their goodbye in Hong Kong. Just thought it was weird how the last two prompts were about the start and end of their relationship in the movie thus far. Heaven help me.
> 
> Also for those who don’t know yet, I’ll be away for 3 weeks to be with my grandfather. The internet connection there is really unreliable/next to non-existent. Hopefully I can knock that last prompt out before my flight. 
> 
> Much love to you all


	5. Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Mordo kisses Stephen goodbye in Hong Kong. A first/last kiss before he leaves the Masters and Kamar-Taj forever. *clenches chest* why do I do this to myself

A/N: This prompt took a toll on me XD I really had no idea how to approach this and hopefully this was satisfactory for the person who submitted the prompt. *wipes sweat off brow*

 

“I will follow this path no longer.”

And with those heavy words, Mordo walked away, abandoning the way of life he spent years fighting to protect. In the span of one night the illusion of home came undone. His reality unraveled before him. He was once again lied to, used, and manipulted by someone he trusted completely. Only this time the pain worsened with each moment, like a bitter poison seeping deeper into his heart.

“No-”

In another time the sound of Stephen’s voice would have stalled him in place. Now it felt like a lifetime ago, as if those memories belonged to another man. Stephen’s weakened plea for him brought a second of hesitation in his steps. Just a second. Then it was gone, replaced by a cruel determination to be free from the grief that came with loving him in secret.

Mordo kept going. He couldn’t spare Stephen a single glance. He couldn’t compromise himself again. He would not falter in his new path. 

“Stop!”

No. Not even for Strange.

“Farewell Stephen,” Mordo muttered the words quietly, reaffirming the goodbye more for himself than anyone else. 

“Mordo-”

His scarred, battle hardened hands tightened at the sound of his name being spoken by that insistent voice. This moment would haunt him. His heart already ached with the knowledge of it. He would never be completely rid of Stephen Strange. 

He wasn’t sure if he should find comfort or despair in knowing that.

“I said stop!”

At once the world came to a quiet, unnerving halt.   
He was stuck there for a moment, then stumbled out of it with a twist of Stephen’s hand.

The rest of the world remained in eiree suspension. Each motion was frozen in mid-stride. The countless faces were locked in momentary flickers of emotion. Even their breaths were still, warm and half spilled from their lips.

“Do you ever listen to anything I say?” Mordo snapped. 

The doctor flinched as his teacher turned around to face him. Mordo’s eyes held firey, untempered fury and pain. 

Stephen’s hands were shaking violently. The green circlets around his left forearm glowed fiercely. The Eye seemed to stare straight at Mordo, as if it had a consciousness of its own, daring him to test it.

“I always listen,” Stephen replied, his voice breaking. “Doesn’t mean I have to accept it.”

They joined the silence of the world for a few uneasy moments before Stephen found his voice again.

“You belong to Kamar-Taj. To the mystic arts. You can’t just abandon your home-”

“Homes change. Nothing is permanent. You of all people should know that.”

Stephen took a deep breath. His lips tightened. His brilliant, expressive eyes flared.

“You are not leaving!”

“And who are you to demand anything from me?” Mordo yelled back, rushing forward until they were close enough to strike the other, “I belong to nothing and no one. Not to Kamar-Taj. Not to you!”

“What are you so scared of? There’s nothing you have to run from. We won!” Stephen’s eyes were wide and frantic, one shaking hand held up the Eye as if it would explain everything.

“You just wrecked the laws of time. You wounded our reality. You’ve exposed yourself to the powers of the Dark Dimension and you see absolutely nothing wrong with that?”

Mordo laughed bitterly. Stephen never heard him laugh that way before. 

“The power of forbidden magic is addicting. I’ve seen many fall to it, and you jumped into that abyss recklessly and blindly- ”

“I had no choice! I trapped us in a time loop until he listened to my bargain. Don’t you see? I had to do it.”

Stephen’s fingers curled around the Eye.   
Mordo stared at him, newfound horror mingling with his anger.

In his eyes, the green runes circling around Stephen’s arm resembled a shackle, binding the sorcerer forever to the ancient relic.

“It was the only way to stop him. You have to see that--”

“You’re addicted to it.” Mordo’s voice broke, “Like every corrupted sorcerer.”

“Mordo-”

“A small exposure to the Dark Dimension ruined the zealots. Even the Ancient One was corrupted by it.”

Mordo reached out his hand towards Stephen’s face. The air around the doctor was heavy, the residual energies from the Dark Dimension seemed to radiate from his skin.

“And now you’re drenched in it.”

“Then help me,” Stephen said. “Stay. I can’t do this alone.”

“You already have,” Mordo replied, pushing a strand of dark energy away. “And now you’re paying a terrible price.”

“I never expected it to be you.” Stephen eyes glistened, “Please. Don’t go.”

Mordo’s hands reached out, one rested on Stephen’s cheek, his thumb wiping away the tears that silently fell. The other hand went over Stephen’s shaking fingers that still held onto the Eye.

“Surrender the Eye,” Mordo pleaded, “It will bring us nothing save regret and pain.”

He was a man of iron will, able resist many temptations. But looking at Stephen at that moment, he knew he wouldn’t be able to deny the man anything if he stayed. And it terrified him to know that.

“I can’t,” Stephen shook his head and pulled Mordo’s hand away from the Eye.

“Then you’ve chosen this goodbye,” Mordo replied. He understood then, so he thought, that he would never outweigh the relic which rested over Stephen’s heart.

He felt a sudden heat rush to his face, not of anger, but of pain. It spread through him like an awful shock. His chest ached with a terrible heaviness.

“Mordo please. Don’t do this, ple-”

The words were cut, the distance between them closed, and all thought seemed to cease as Mordo pulled him in and kissed him. 

The sudden motion of Mordo’s hands pulling him down, of those lips claiming his own, stomped every word into silence. In the stillness of the suspended night, the connection between them felt immense, as if they alone were enough to fill the hallow silence of the world.

Stephen’s hands rushed up to keep them together, kissing back with a wonderful urgency Mordo didn’t expect. It only made the pain of their seperation worse when Mordo pulled away.

“In another set of chances,” Mordo said. “We might have been happy.” 

He allowed himself a moment to think about that other life. He nearly smiled knowing that in another universe he would have stayed, Stephen would be truly his, and the happiness that eluded them both was theirs to share at last.

“We can still have that,” Stephen said. 

“Not until I find a way to save you,” Mordo replied. “And I promise I will.”

He stepped away from Stephen. Their eyes remained locked on the other, as if to prolong any connection between them. Mordo gave him one last, sad smile.

“But for now, for us both, this is goodbye.”

Mordo took out his sling ring, turned around, and conjured his escape. In a ring of light he was gone, and with him Stephen’s belief that in spite of everything he would have stayed.

The weilder of the Eye stood there in solitary shock. He shook with no one to steady him, his broken cries the only sound in the desolate stillness of the world. 

A/N: And with that, the prompts I originally received are done. Still traveling in places with super limited wifi. I thank you all for your patience :) 

Also on a side note? If Stephen just mentioned he *died* countless times to prevent everyone else from suffering I really think that would be enough to get Mordo to stay. But since this prompt wanted him to leave at the end, I chose to omit that part, making it sound to Mordo like Stephen was merely cycling the time. I wanted to write him staying ;__; and taking care of Stephen, but well...had to follow the prompt XD 

If this wasn’t what the anon had in mind, I’ll gladly rewrite it though. ^_^ I just want the prompters to be happy with these little ficlets.


	6. First Place in Her Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Using insomnia to do something kinda productive. Have a little fluffy drabble with Mama!TAO and toddler!Karl. Kittens? Y’all like kittens? *throws in a kitten* ^^ This was actually just a writing exercise. I set the timer for an hour and starting writing without any sort of idea what to do and this came out.

“Good heavens!”

The Ancient One picked up the fat old cat that made a mad dash for her. He launched himself on her waiting lap, knocking the wind out of her lightly for a moment. He often forgot that he was no longer the tiny little kitten that could climb harmlessly and sleep on her shoulders. Still, she cupped him to her chest and ran her gentle fingers through his dark grey coat. The creature’s green eyes looked up at her, wide and bright with a silent plea. She smiled and rubbed the patch of white fur at the back of his neck.

“It’s alright Merlin. He means well.” She laughed and tickled his chin, calming him. “Children tend to be bundles of energy, you must pardon him.”

She stood up from her desk, petting poor old Merlin’s tuffs of fur. She didn’t need to raise a voice to summon the culprit for the cat’s distress. 

“Mewwen?” 

The Ancient One smiled at the sound and sight of the toddler waddling towards them. The small boy was laughing as he half crawled and walked, his chubby hands gripped tight on the laces of the boots trying to steady him. It was a silly, ridiculous sight that Kamar-Taj grew accustomed too. Never had a relic taken to anyone so young, but it appeared that the Vaulting Boots of Valtorr already decided on their future master. 

She waved the child over. Merlin wiggled free from her arms and disappeared in a cloud of fur and fluff, racing out like a demon out of hell. 

“Darling, you’ve frightened Merlin again.” She sighed, resting on her knees and extending her arms to catch the boy as he let go of the laces and scampered towards her. 

“Sowwy Mama.” He tumbled into her embrace, “Mewwen mad?”

“No darling, but he is old and tired. He can’t play with you all day and he needs to sleep.” She lifted him up and he giggled as she hoisted him for a moment in the air before catching him as he fell.

“So next time just play with Floof, my love.” She kissed his forehead and soothed the green cap on his head. “Speaking of Floof, where did that sweet little fireball go?” 

On cue one of the boots stepped forward and tilted itself until a sweet, sleepy orange creature slipped out from the top.

“Floofy!” The toddler bounced in her arms. His fat arms reached for the kitten. The Ancient One scooped the latest addition to her son’s quickly growing collection of pets. She placed the kitten against the toddler’s chest. 

“Floofy silly, Mama.” 

The boy giggled as Floofy nuzzled beneath his chin, purring contently as her little master gently rubbed her back. Ever since he’d shown an interest in animals The Ancient One taught him to handle them properly. And though he was still very young he seemed to understand what it meant to protect anything under his care. 

“Yes Karl,” She said, looking at his beaming face. “Silly and sweet like you.”

He cooed happily, wrapping his arm around the orange ball of fluff, mumbling about how much he loved her. The Ancient One smiled. She couldn’t help it with this child. And in these tender, simple moments of joy she knew she made the right choice. 

When Nikolai Mordo appeared with his infant son begging for asylum, the smart thing to do would have been to cast them out. But even the Ancient One had her weaknesses, and a desperate family crying for sanctuary was something she couldn’t ignore. Despite the valiant efforts of their healers, the injured father expired from his wounds a mere hour after arriving. The man’s last moments were spent pleading with her to accept the baby boy into her home, begging her to make him a servant if need be if it meant Krowler would never find him. 

How could she possibly deny him that? She would have granted anyone fleeing from Krowler protection. And that wailing, restless, hungry, sickly bundle of tears in Nikolai’s dying arms needed it more than anyone. She knew how Krowler worked, what sort of unspeakable things he would do in order to gain more power even at the expense of his own family. This little baby would be nothing more than another weapon for him to use, another ingredient in a spell, and a step in a ritual. The thought of leaving an innocent soul to that fate disgusted her. So despite everyone’s worries and protests she raised the child as her own. Before she even realized it that baby soon took first place in her heart. 

And her life was all the brighter for it. 

“Mama look,” Karl yawned, pointing at the flowers blossoming in the courtyard. “S’ pretty. Wike you.”

“Is that so darling?” She plucked a blossom from one of the lower branches and tucked the flower behind the boy’s ear. “That means we are the same. Both strong. Both lovely.”

Karl seemed to like that very much. The chubby little boy giggled and hugged her tighter, Floof purring contently between them.


	7. Wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Ancient One mends little toddler!Karl's wounds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Mama!TAO cause that's never gonna leave my heart. Also super sentient boots ^^ And soulmates! Also very brief mention of Heimdal/TAO cause I love it so much. This is directly tied with the previous chapter.

“Slow down Karl! You’ll knock yourself over if you're not careful!”

The Ancient One’s warning went unheeded. The small boy giggled wildly as he raced down the courtyard on his little red tricycle. The training wheels were comically large and thick, as if taken straight out of a cartoon. The tassels at the end of the bike handles shook as Karl pedaled through a cobblestone jutting out. He yelped at the slight bump, laughing when he survived.

“You ‘kay Val?”

The newly named Val, known to most as the right boot, tapped Karl once to answer before wrapping a lace around the vehicle for support. Val the boot was sitting on the tiny basket that was fastened at the back of the tricycle. It crammed itself there earlier to accompany the small child’s adventure. Meanwhile its twin waited impatiently for the next turn, tapping its toes on the ground with laces loosely crossed.

The Sorceress Supreme smiled, walking towards her adopted son as he sped through the courtyard as fast as his little feet could pedal. The students and masters peeked up from their books, many of them looking on with amusement as the rascal of Kamar Taj zipped by them. He was the official baby of their order, the youngest and most carefree. His bright smiles and excited waves carried a sweet innocence yet untainted by reality.

“Look Ma! Look!” Karl dared to let go of the handles for a split second before promptly gripping them again at the slightest serve. The boy grinned. Danger was exciting! Especially when no harm followed.

“Darling, keep your hands on the handle. Eyes forward. Look where you're going love!”

And like all good mothers, she immediately knew that he didn't hear a word of what she said. He was too busy, too occupied at the moment with simple childhood joys to listen.

“S’okay Mama!” Karl said, looking over his shoulder to wave at her. He flicked his finger over the bell on the handle, signalling his presence to no one in particular. His face beamed beneath the eye-melting cautionary yellow helmet his mother insisted he wear.

And it was fortunate that she did.

A blink and a yelp later the poor toddler found himself, his tricycle, and the boot crashing over a large, sharp tree root.

“Karl!”

The boot flared to life, snapping mid crash to cushion the boy’s fall. The child tumbled and landed on his right arm with a shrill cry. The twin boot ran alongside The Ancient One, yellow sparks spitting in the air.

“Mama!!”

“It's alright Karl.” She knelt down and helped him to his feet, saying the words to reassure herself as much as him, “You’re okay.”

The boy’s face quivered as his mother picked him up and checked for injuries. He looked around and saw the countless faces of the students and masters staring at him, asking if he was alright. He hiccuped, lips drawn out to a trembling pout when he saw the overturned bike with its huge wheels still spinning. With glassy eyes he looked back at his mother and burst into tears.

“Sowwy Mama! Sowwy!” Karl hid his humiliated face against her robes, soaking a tiny spot with tears.

“It's okay my darling. We all fall from time to time,” She removed his helmet, tossed it aside, and kissed his curly dark hair. “I think we had enough adventure for one evening. Come now love, up we go. Is your palm okay?”

She opened his right fist to inspect the bandage wrapped around the old wound, relieved that it remained intact. The bandage was made of a delicate cloth, protective runes stitched throughout in an intricate design. She kissed his little hand, whispering a simple spell to soothe the ache she was certain he felt through his palm.

“It okay Mama,” Karl nodded and rubbed his eyes before hiding his face against her shoulder.

She carried the precious bundle back to his room, rubbing comforting circles on his back. All the while she kindly waved off the horde inquiring if the boy was alright. She didn't wish for Karl to be constantly reminded of the pain. The boots trotted beside mother and son, eager to follow their little master anywhere and everywhere. But like human siblings they soon squabbled, left blamed right for the fall while right fired back with a smack of its lace. The twin boots fell behind their master, too busy kicking and tussling to follow.

Once they arrived in Karl’s chambers, The Ancient One undid the elbow and knee pads. She sighed at the sight of her frumpy, tearful son. For being an overprotected child, Karl was quickly accumulating a disturbing collection of scars. He was far too curious for his own good, testing his limits to the point of injury. Not even a dozen watchful eyes could keep him from tripping, falling, or scraping something.

It was simply what children tend to do. She knew this. She lived long enough to know better than to fret over such common rites of passage. Yet she still did. It was a staple of motherhood, to worry and fret as children grew and learned of pain.

“Easy now, let’s get you cleaned up.” The Ancient One sat him on the edge of the bed. She cupped his face and swept the tears away. His tiny hands touched hers as a new wave of tears broke out.

His short, dark, chubby baby fingers seemed even smaller right against her pale, elegant, slender ones. The bandage on his right palm needed to be replaced soon….

“It’ll be over soon love.” She kissed his cheek and helped him change into a clean tunic. With great care she took the wounded arm and applied some ointment to it, tending the spot where a thin layer of skin was broken.

“See? Right as rain, as they say. You’re much stronger than a simple wound. You’ll be alright. Tomorrow you can ride the tricycle again. Just be mindful of what's right before you next time.”

“No,” The child shook his head. “Ain’t gonna. No mowe.”

“Karl,” The Ancient One soothed his thick, curly hair as the child’s eyes began to water anew. “Sometimes pain is part of learning. You now know to look carefully at where you’re going, correct?”

He nodded, looking down shyly at his hands.

“Perfect! Now you’re wiser than you were before that mistake….before the pain,” She kissed his cheek, “And pain does not last forever. Believe me, I’ve felt it enough times to know.”

His warm brown eyes blossomed. His mother? Feel pain? It was a foreign concept to him. In his eyes she must have looked so untouchable, as most little children would believe their guardians to be.

“Mama get hurted?” Karl asked, “How? Who?”

His eyes narrowed, the peculiar frown on his baby face reminded her so much of Heimdal. For a moment her heart felt the weight of what might have been, had fate been kinder to them. It didn't benefit anyone to dwell on dreams for too long, yet looking at Karl she couldn't help but imagine. Her heart ached at the thought that perhaps in another lifetime this sweet boy was truly hers in every wonderful, familial way, a child born from the love she allowed herself to have.

“Who hurted you Mama?” Karl said sharply, staring at her til he got an answer. It was a habit he picked up from her. She couldn't help but laugh, hiding her smile behind a fair hand.

“Why do you ask my little warrior?” She asked.

His former shyness was gone. There was an odd determination fixed in those brown eyes

“Imma fight them!”

He waved his plump, tiny fists in the air to mimic what the older students did during their lessons.

“Imma make ‘em fly away! Wooossh!” He made circles in the air, eyes hard set and focused.

She sighed. He was such an observant child, already eager to learn all he could. He would surely make a strong sorcerer one day...

“Goodness! Is that so Karl?”

“Pwomise Mama, Imma gonna get em!”

She chuckled at his declaration, trying to imagine such a situation. The boy needed to be consoled whenever a butterfly died. It would be interesting to say the very least, to see how he would be during combat training.

Karl climbed into her arms and snuggled against her. She held him close, knowing that his open affection would not last forever. He would grow older even though she would not. Soon he would be trying his best to avoid being coddled and smothered. She would take these moments whenever they came.

Her little one hugged her tighter and tucked his head beneath her chin, humming a song to himself. She recalled the doubts that plagued Kamar- Taj when she decided to keep him. Many were weary of having Krowler’s blood among them, fearful that the child was cursed somehow, or that he would take after his grandfather’s selfish and sadistic nature.

Yet here that baby was, still in her arms and singing so sweetly. And by the gods, did he turn out to be a soft, gentle, bumblebee of a boy. A curious child he was, eyes full of wonder with each spell cast before him, befriending relics as if they were humans, sneaking in treats for his collection of pets, and devouring fairytale books faster than the librarian could replace them.

“Owwie,” Karl winced, “Hurts again--”

His right hand trembled. Then he gasped, sharp and fast as magic seeped from the wound on his palm.

“Mama--”

“You’re okay darling,” The Ancient One replied, her voice remaining calm to soothe him. “We’ll try to do this quick like last time, but you must be brave and remain still. Can you do that again love?”

Karl bit back his lips and nodded, offering his right hand to his mother. Red spread through the bandage. It wasn’t the usual red of blood, but the deep scarlet that came from rare and powerful magic.

“Breathe Karl,” The Ancient One directed, lifting up his face so that their eyes met. “I have you. You’ll be alright.”

She unraveled the cloth carefully. The runes flared bright for a moment, just a blink before the light faded to reveal the child’s wound.

The deep, brutal, ugly mutilation never failed to made her shudder. In her countless years as Sorceress Supreme, she’d encountered many unspeakable horrors. Yet few could rival anything as cruel as this…

“Mm’ scared Mama,” Karl whispered as she conjured a thin golden needle of light, knowing the pain to come.

“Being scared is just a chance to us to be brave,” The Ancient One smiled softly. “And you are brave Karl. So brave. You are my son...you have no choice but to be.”

She took his wounded palm gently, whispering the spells she needed to counter the damage Krowler inflicted on Karl as a baby.

“Here it goes my love. Try to remain still,” She squeezed his hand softly before she guided the needle to sink through his skin.

He whimpered, biting back a sob as his mother created strings of light with her needle. She started her stitches at the edge of the boy’s palm, below his pinky. She followed the jagged, violent line across his hand. Karl’s cries grew louder each time the needle sank back into the injured flesh.

“My dearest,” She said in a tender voice, knowing how to calm him. “Do you remember what I told you before? About the red string?”

“It special,” Karl recalled. “Real special.”

His hand twitched at the pain but his focus was on his mother’s words.

“Yes darling. The red string is a very, very special kind of magic. Powerful, ancient, and rare. Very few souls are born with it,” The Ancient One said. “And you my love, are one of the blessed few to be tied to one…”

Karl blinked at her then looked at his palm. It certainly didn’t feel special. It made him feel ugly and hurt.

“When you were a baby someone did a wicked thing.” She continued her stitches, working as carefully and thoroughly as she could, “They tried to destroy your heartline.”

“Heartline?” Karl’s eyes widened. He never heard that word before.

“Yes, you see there is a line that starts deep in your heart,” The Ancient One touched Karl’s chest, “It’s full of wonderful, beautiful magic, and it flows out right to form this line on your palm. But someone tried to destroy it--”

“B-But why?” Karl’s lips trembled.

“So you can never find your soulmate,”

It was a popular theory that The Ancient One knew in her heart to be true. When Nikolai Mordo died and left the child to her, the healers were horrified at the extent of Krowler’s cruelty. To mutilate a heartline with dark magic in order to sever a red string was not only forbidden, it was abhorrent. Of all the tortures one could inflict on another soul, this was among the most deplorable, an unspeakable crime against fate itself. Two souls forever hopelessly seeking each other…

And Krowler tried to sentence this poor child to that. It made the terrible situation even more despicable in The Ancient One’s eyes. In her long years such as thing was done only a handful of times, and each time for the same desperate reason...to avoid destiny. She suspected Krowler must have discovered the child’s red string and deemed it a threat to whatever plans he had for his grandson. Whatever it was Krowler foresaw scared him enough to try and destroy the connection completely. This child’s soulmate must be formidable indeed, to prompt Krowler to such a desperate, violent act.

“You see my darling, your heartline doesn’t end at your palm. It flows out like a brilliant red string..”

His mother’s hands held his for a quiet moment. The thin strands of light resembled interwoven stitches keeping the precious heartline in place.

“And somewhere in the world this same red string is tied to another heartline, to a heart that longs for nothing more than to find you. That heart, my love, is your soulmate.”

“Tied? Soul-eight?” Karl tried to imagine a red rope tying him with some stranger. His eyes watered. “I don’t wanna!”

“Oh you say that now but just wait,” The Ancient One laughed as she finished her work. “Soon you’ll be all grown up, ready to ride off into the sunset with him.”

She kissed his palm, whispering a healing prayer into the wound, and wrapped it carefully with more of the enchanted silk. This was the constant routine every night since Karl’s unexpected arrival into her life.

“The stitches here will still break a little each day,” The Ancient One reminded him as she fasted the bandage together. “Not even a Supreme can fully heal an injured heartline. Only your soulmate has that power. Your wounds shall heal once he realizes who you are-”

“But why?” Karl whined, “Why do I--why do I even need em?”

It was such a heavy question to come out of a child.

“Your happiness for a start,” The Ancient One replied, hoping the simple answer would be enough for Karl.

“But I’m happy now!” The child insisted, “Wit’ you!”

“For now yes,” His mother smiled though there was a hint of sadness in her crystalline eyes. “But it won’t be that way forever. I am your mother Karl, and I will love you with a depth no one else can. But you also have a soulmate and he will continue to love you long after I’m gone.”

“No Mama! No! You not going anywheres,” Karl launched himself into her arms, hugged her, and buried his face against her robes, “I won’t let you!”

Distraught by the very idea she could be gone, his tears burst. His body shook as he cried, his little chubby fingers wrinkling her robes from how tightly he held onto her.

“It will be like a wound upon your heart yes, but like any injury it will heal,” The Ancient One held him close and kissed his temple. “And I pray your soulmate will be there for you as it does. Karl...look at me.”

The child sniffled and looked up, his bright brown eyes wide and wet with tears. She wiped them away and lifted his chin.

“Always remember that I love you. I will until the day I die. And your soulmate--” She kissed his bandaged palm. “Will love you every moment afterwards.”

The child nodded though he couldn't quite understand. Not fully. Not yet. His mother gathered him tighter in her arms and hushed his cries.

“That is my wish for you, my little one.” The Ancient One said, “That you will never be without love…”

She laid her cheek against the top of his weary head, cradling him as a single tear escaped her.

“And I will do everything in my power to ensure it.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The soulmate portion here was taken from a super old concept I put on the backburner. While Mordo’s safe with TAO, poor baby Stephen keeps getting cursed by Krowler for being Mordo’s soulmate. In short, every misery Stephen suffers...his sister dying, his parents dying, the accident...all caused by Krowler trying to kill Karl’s soulmate. *flies away*


	8. Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on an ask I received on tumblr about Stephen's perfect memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I received this ask on tumblr...
> 
> "Can we talk about how Stephen has eidetic memory? He remembers everything in almost perfect detail? So he remembers all the good times with Mordo?? And he will never forget Mordo leaving him??? And when he inevitably fights Mordo he will always have Mordo as he was in Kamar-Taj in his memories? I am sobbing, Mimi T___T"
> 
> And now I'm sobbing too. Here's a drabble for emphasis XD

Stephen remembered it perfectly, like everything else, the memories as clear as his own bloody reflection staring back at him.

He recalled falling in a courtyard with a cloudless sky above and Karl Mordo beneath. The laughter and praise was a sound forever locked in his brain. He would recognize that delighted voice anywhere. Pity that he barely heard that voice speaking to him in anything less than hatred now. 

He tightened his lips at the thought of Karl slipping away from him, rolling over on that courtyard and kicking him off only for their dance to start again. And of course there was the warmth between them, not just from their bodies, but from the magic conjured from their hands. There were countless memories of them in the courtyard, the library, the kitchens, and the bedroom pressing their hands together to create light. He could still feel Karl’s fingers intertwining with his own, tracing his scars in a gentle caress. 

And then there were the kisses and more intimate touches, things that no one else would know but them. Even after all they went through, the pain they both inflicted on the other, the reality of their love splintering beyond repair...Stephen refused to let the memories go. 

Karl once cautioned about holding on to the past. It was a self-induced torment, to keep one’s heart in a time that no longer existed, and to a love long lost. But it meant little to Stephen. Pain was an old friend after all, and he had so few of them. Even pain had to be treasured. 

Through endless memories he recited each step, every longing glance, compassionate touch, and every confession of love. Karl’s face was engraved within his mind, rooting itself there as deeply as any part of his own body. Just like Karl, the memories of him were immovable, rigid, and relentless. And just like Karl himself, Stephen needed them.  
For memories gave hope. 

When reality would strike him in the form of Karl’s anger, he only had to remember the way the rogue sorcerer once was. It was easily enough, as natural to Stephen as breathing. It helped that every fight between them ended the same way it did the night his bargain was made. With Karl turning his back and walking away. It was by far the hardest memory to relive, and as fate would have it, the clearest to recall. 

He seemed to have traded one endless torture for another. 

And now as he stood with blood running down his face, and his eyes following Karl once again walking out of his reach he had to wonder...Which fate destroyed him more?


	9. Purrfect Day In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karl spends a rainy day in with his collection of friendly kitties ^^ Oh, and the baby on the way...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any/Mordo prompt: Just give me Karl Mordo being preggers and cuddling with cats. Just cats kneading their soft paws on Karl's tummy, purring and rubbing themselves against it because their cat dad is going to have a kid (kids?) of his own. Who's the father is up to you. Basically, Karl + cats y'all

A/N: Prompt fill. Just wanted something light, sweet, and fluffy to get me through this flight. *takes off*

“Dantes,” Karl half-yawned the name as he reclined on the bed. “You’re on my legs…”

The blue persian cat turned his head up for a moment before deciding it didn’t care. Instead of honoring his caretaker’s request the old blue resumed his own slumber, his puffy body nestled atop the sorcerer’s swollen legs. Karl sighed and wiggled his legs to no avail. The old cat made up his mind and nothing short of an interdimensional crisis would move him. And that was if luck was on Karl’s side. 

“Sir,” Karl tried again, his tone far more stern. “Move or next time Isabella gets your spot.”

Upon hearing her name the slender alley cat jumped on the bed with nothing louder than a contented purr. She was a lovely, pretty thing sporting a slick orange coat with black splatters all over, giving her the appearance of a puzzle. 

“Lady Isabella, there you are.” Karl reached his hand towards her, “Glad to have you join us. Glad to see you haven’t brought any souvenirs for me this time. Come here.”

The living puzzle trotted over and nuzzled his hand, licking it over and over before finding her way to Karl’s swollen belly. She sniffled around curiously, poking her paw at the mound a few times before curling into a perfect circle. Her purrs were demure and lady-like, her large green eyes as innocent as any dove she killed. Even now her sweet, sleepy face masked the fact that she was the undisputed serial killer of the bunch. And she absolutely loved sharing her trophies with Karl. Thankfully she returned bloodless and empty-pawed this time.

At the presence of Isabella, Dantes whined and spread his massive over Karl’s legs. He stretched his arms out until he looked like a fluffy old feather duster. He chirped and dug his flat face against the master’s long robes. Karl watched him with a bit of irritation. The solution was simple. Karl could just simply move and ignore the greedy old cat’s grumbling. But in his heart he knew he’d immediately regret it. Karl just didn’t have the heart to do that to Dantes. Or any of his unexpected cat children. 

The sky outside Karl’s window was a deep grey, heavy with looming rain. He could smell the rain brewing outside, ready to gush out in a violent torrent.

“Perscilla?” Karl took the chance and adjusted himself to sit up a bit higher when he caught sight of the tiny half-bitten ear. “Percy I see you over there, hurry in before the rain comes.”

The half bitten ear crawled through the window, bringing with it a long, deep chestnut body. The slinky-like feline gave a shy meow and scampered into the room. She weaved her way between the scattered books and journals on the floor, using the larger ones as stepping stones to get her on the bed. Karl welcomed her in with a gentle scratch behind her good ear. 

“Good, sweet girl,” Karl smiled. “You had me worried you’d be caught in the rain again. Now go sleep by your sister.” 

The lovely Lady Percy was already partially curled around Isabella as Karl finished greeting her. The two were the only actual siblings in the sorcerer’s collection. He found them during one of his missions a few years ago, huddled in a pathetic cardboard box that was melting in the rain. Periscilla's ear was infected from an awful bite, and Isabella’s eyes were wide with fear when Karl lifted them from that miserable place and tucked them in his robes. He planned to care for them just long enough for them to gain some weight and for Percy’s ear to heal. That was five years ago, and they showed no indication they were planning to move out in the foreseeable future. 

“Now where in the world could Fleur have gotten into this time?” Karl said aloud, sighing and laying down on his side. He cupped his swollen belly and rubbed it softly, his eyes fixed on the window. “I hope Rhett didn’t travel to far today either-“

A deep meow answered him from beneath the bed. Out rolled a large tabby cat that seemed more muscle than furr. The green eyed Rhett continued to give his baritone meows that softly mellowed into a contented, heavy purr.

“There you are! Get up here Rhett,” Karl encouraged him, wiggling his fingers at the cat. “It’s far too cold down there.”

Rhett hopped on the bed, making a sizable dent right beside Perscilla and Karl. He never quite understood that he wasn’t the same kitten that could snuggle in a teacup when Karl first found him. The robust cat was once the runt of his litter, whatever was left of them anyways, and had the faintest wisp for a voice. Now he was a goliath amongst any of the pets in Kamar Taj. His nature didn’t match an inch of his stature. He retained so much of that sweet, shy kitten that would curl around Karl’s belly in his sleep. And while he couldn’t do that now with the baby there, Rhett happily settled for curling beside his beloved master’s face, rubbing his cheek against Karl’s with a string of happy purrs. 

Isabella whimpered and fussed, her displeasure sharp and clear as rain quickly pelted outside. The water and wind smacked the windows in a heavy fury. Perscilla flicked her tongue out before bringing her distressed sister back down with gentle tackle. Karl extended his arm and pulled them close, hushing them with soft comforting songs. He was reward with Isabella’s purrs and Perscilla’s tender paws kneading against his belly.

After a few minutes movement stirred beneath the taunt skin and a small kick greeted the kneading. A brilliant smile spread rapidly through Karl’s face, the warmth sweeping through his body. His fingers rolled over the spot his baby was fond of. The little feet tapped under his palm. A simple motion yes, but it brought such awe and love that his heart alone couldn’t contain it. A heartbeat later found his eyes filled with tears.

“Soon,” Karl said simply. “You’ll finally see me soon.”

Rhett rolled over and pressed his face against Karl’s cheek. His purrs were as loud as a lion beside his caretaker’s ear, the soothing rhythm rivaling the downpour of rain. Perscilla quickly joined him. Together the pair of them made a fine duet, singing beside Karl while Dantes kept his legs warm and Isabella licked his hand.

Karl took a deep, contented breath. His mind focused on the moment. The sound of the powerful rain against the window. The comfort of purrs, furrs, and coos surrounding him. And the careful creaking of the door…

“I see you have company,” 

Karl turned his head slightly towards the voice and chuckled at the sight of little Fleur’s face peeking over the cupped hands of Daniel Drum. 

“You have room for one more?” 

“For one more cat,” Karl smiled and adjusted himself on the bed. “And for you…”

“I would hope so,” Daniel approached the bed and placed his hands by Karl’s. Fleur hopped off and bounced on Rhett, magnetized to him and rolling over his massive frame. Rhett covered the kitten with his arm. Her playful, excited meows were as light as snow flurries, her bright curious eyes a vibrant pair of sapphires. As the baby of the group she never hesitated to make her privilege known. 

“She found a way to the Sanctum again,” Daniel‘s fingers tickled the bottom of Fleur’s chin, “Quite impressive for a kitten. Are you certain she’s not a sorceress in disguise?”

“You could just flatter me and compliment my teaching,” Karl teased. “I could anyone of them a fearsome master of the mystic arts.”

“So you’re teaching cats now?” Daniel raised an eyebrow.

“I can teach anyone anything,” Karl sighed and nodded towards the empty spot in their bed, making it clear where he wanted Daniel to be. The Master of the New York Sanctum took the cue, took off his boots, and climbed carefully onto the bed.

“It appears so,” Daniel said. “Based on how you apparently helped your worst student rise the ranks. What was his name again? Vincent?”

“Stephen Vincent Strange,” Karl said. “Stephen to me and Strange to Wong. You know how Wong is about new recruits.”

“He has every reason to be,” Daniel said, frowning slightly. “These are dangerous times. We must be discerning on who to bring in here and who to trust. Now more than ever…”

Daniel’s hand slipped beneath Karl’s shirt to cup the belly. He smiled as a gentle kick greeted his palm. 

“Are you jealous?” Karl whispered. “Stephen’s just a student Daniel. With time he may prove to be a useful master and perhaps a friend. To us both of course, I wouldn’t   
-“

“Karl,” 

Daniel cupped his face and thumbed over the dimples he was so fond of kissing. 

“You don’t have to explain anything. I’m not jealous. I’m not Kaecillus. And there’s no need for us to share friends. You’re intelligent and discerning. Befriend who you wish. No suspicions here.”

A smile rose beneath Daniel’s palm. Karl sighed sweetly as his partner kissed his forehead and drew him closer. Daniel was a strong man, formidable and imposing, often times appearing cold and unyielding. But there was a tenderness to him, a gentle gaurantee of security Karl had grown addicted to. In Daniel’s arms he felt vulnerable but there was no fear coupled with it. 

With Kaecillus he was cautious of when and how to even breathe, fearful that any wrong movement would give him enough cause to be rejected. He sacrificed so much to stay with a man who ultimately did not deserve the grief, despite the multiple promises he was given. With Daniel there were no grandiouse vows or sweet soaked promises. He didn’t need to give them. He fulfilled everything Karl could have asked for in a partner, and one act of love from Daniel outweighed any mountain of broken promises Kaecillus left him with.

“That fortunate teller was right after all,” Karl smiled as he tucked his head beneath Daniel’s chin. “The one I thought was speaking about Kaecillus.”

“Ay, the sorceress from Wong’s village?” Daniel said, kissing Karl’s temple. “I recall you being so happy after seeing her.”

“She said I would marry a master,” Karl smiled and settled his head against Daniel’s heartbeat. “A powerful one. A master that shall guard one of the great Sanctums. She guessed New York. At the time I thought it was Kaecillus. I’ve never been so happy to be wrong.”

The fortune teller was an elderly sorceress that Wong grew up with. She was more skin than anything else, but her eyes were still sharp and youthful the last time Karl saw her. She had taken an immediate interest in him after he quickly befriended her old cat. It seemed that was all that was needed to gain her favor and she promptly welcomes Karl to have his fortune read. Wong warned him about it, swearing that her predictions were frighteningly accurate. He went through with it anyways, curious to see what she saw awaiting him. 

Cats. That was the first thing she saw. Many cats around him, loving him and sleeping snug against him. That drew a laugh from him as he only had Dantes at the time. Her next prediction was the one that made his heart heavy with want. 

She smiled and said he would find the happiness he wished for with a man he wouldn’t expect, a talented and powerful sorcercer. They would live in a Sanctum and guard it together. At the time Kaecillus was still Master of the New York Sanctum, still loyal to Kamar Taj, and still devoted to Karl. Or at least that’s how Karl perceived it at the time. Now he knew better. Now he saw what the sorceress meant, and it was better than what he imagined. 

“The fortune teller looked too far ahead my love,” Daniel laughed softly. “But if the promotion to Master of the New York Sanctum included you I would have accepted the position much sooner.” 

“How much sooner?” Karl teased.

“No time could have been soon enough,” Daniel said, his eyes weighed with a bit of sadness. “I regret I didn’t speak up about how I felt about you earlier. But I didn’t want to intrude. You were so set with him that I—”

A loud meow interrupted him. Dantes batted his tail on Daniel, demanding space before squeezing between the two sorcerers. 

“It doesn’t matter anymore, except to perhaps serve as a lesson,” Karl said, running his fingers along the cat’s spine til Dante’s purrs overpowered the rain. “I’m just happy to have what we share right now. I don’t want to think of it never existing.”

“And with any luck it’ll last,” Daniel joked, his smile warm and tender. “For as long as you continue to have me.”

Karl answered him with a kiss. Their baby answered with a kick. And the cats all settled in their favorite places, curled and snuggled, all of them one family sleeping peacefully to the sound of kisses and rain.

A/N: Sorry for the mistakes. Wrote it while flying. Posted between flight transfers *profusely sweats*


End file.
